


Before It All Began

by overcastcat



Series: An Angel's Retrograde [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Frisk (Undertale) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Inspired By Undertale, Intersex, LGBTQ Themes, Nonbinary Frisk (Undertale), Original Characters - Freeform, Other, POV Frisk (Undertale), Pre-Canon, Pre-Undertale, Swearing, Tiny Frisk (Undertale)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2019-09-21 01:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17034052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastcat/pseuds/overcastcat
Summary: Frisk had a hard time in life well before falling into the Underground. They are just trying to survive in Ebbot City, but starting out on their own with PTSD and nothing but a dumpster for shelter may give them a harder time doing so than others.





	1. Alleyways Aren't All That Bad

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of my take on Frisk's journey before the events of Undertale. They are nonbinary in this work, so please use "they/them/theirs" and avoid gendered pronouns. Note that there are many potential triggers in this work, and if this concerns you I don't recommend reading this fic. Please only leave constructive (or at least civil) comments, and let me know if there are any grievous errors I need to fix in any part of this work. Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk is trying their best to give up, but finding it rather hard when they're being confronted by flashbacks, nightmares, depression, and starvation as they try to stay safe and sane on the streets of Ebbot City. Luckily, someone with good intentions stumbles upon them... but whether or not they did more good or harm is still up for debate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are triggers in this chapter, including (but not limited to), anxiety, blood, gun violence, death, loss of family, grief, depression, contemplation of suicide, homelessness, tetanus, and emotional trauma. For those of you that I haven't managed to chase off, enjoy (and hold out to the end for some wholesomeness)!

The curb was coarse against their palms like the tongue of a cat with none of its signature gentleness or warmth. Tiny hands clutched at it all the same, desperate to keep a hold onto reality, keep seeing only the bland, red brick wall about 5 meters away. Deep breaths. They hugged their knees to their chest and sat, wedged into a shadow cast by a hulking dumpster that looked over them haughtily. They felt like imploding and shrinking down past their currently tiny frame.  


_Disappear. Just let me go somewhere else. I want mom. I want dad. Anyone. Please…_ The child sent out this cry past their cracked lips, barely a breath of a whisper.  


The time had passed like a sluggish river of primordial ooze. To them it seemed it had been a lifetime of sleeping in shadows and corners of alleyways, a cardboard box feeling just as good now as their bed had a few months ago. It had only been June, then, but their old life was miles behind them. Although, if they pictured their parents, it felt like their mom and dad had been ripped from them just yesterday, no matter how many weeks passed.  


A passerby that came dangerously close to their current daytime hideaway had implied that September had begun, by complaining about the grim color of the sky. It was the signature stormy mottled greys, during the day at least, the color that had remained for a solid week. A grim chill would soon follow and bring the daily winter rains, plummeting Ebott City’s temperatures as low as 5º C. They knew that either the cold would get them or the rain would, but either way their chances of living to May when the sun emerged from hibernation was about 1 in a billion. Not that they had any particular desire to see another year. Their mother’s determination pushed them on, but that was about all that kept them from crawling under the dumpster and never coming out.  


_Oh no. No no no._ Too late, they remembered the consequences of thinking about their better days with Mom and Dad, and plunged headfirst back to that night, June 8th, only a few months ago. They felt themselves age eons as they were sucked back into the hellscape of their memories. 

***

__

_“How could we do that, send them out alone that way? Frisk is only eight! Alice, please, think of something else, anything else!” their father’s desperate whisper filled Frisk’s head with sharp urgency._  


_“You know we have to, Sai, otherwise Frisk has no hope. You know as well as I why they’re here. Those bastards will stop at nothing.” Frisk moved close, drawn to their mother’s confidence. They tucked themself under her arm like it was a weighted blanket and buried their head in her ribs.  
_

_“You… you have to go with them. I’ll stay behind.”  
_

_“No chance in hell, darling. This way, maybe those men will think Frisk died. If one of us is roaming about, then the cover is blown. They can track our power until we run out of ways to save our own asses, but they can’t sniff out Frisk. Especially if they don’t know what to look for.” Alice paused and cupped a hand to her child’s cheek, gently sweeping away a tear with her thumb. She blinked back her own and promised, “No matter what happens, sweetheart, we love you. When we tell you, please, please run.” They were incredulous. Frisk couldn’t run, how could they move an inch away from the only two people who saw **them** , the real person behind the strange little kid’s exterior? They couldn’t leave like this. No. **No.**  
_

_“Please, love.” begged their father as he began running his hand over their head and turning their straight dark hair into large black ringlets, weaving sparkling purple energy into their face, reddening their lips and giving them a small black spot by their cheek. They felt their eyes narrow and were shocked to discover that the shape didn’t return to normal when they blinked. Frisk was distracted as they felt their face for changes when their mother picked them up with a flick of her pointer finger. They felt their soul become nestled into the familiar powerful thrum of their mother’s magic as a faint green light surrounded it. **Ding.**  
_

_They didn’t have time to cry out. Their mother threw them out of the open window, over the yard, and onto the street that ran behind their house. They eased into a calm landing on the asphalt. Instinct kept Frisk from screaming, but their common sense was silent as they began attempting to climb the back fence. Their small arms and hands couldn’t stretch out enough to reach the small knot-holes in the wood, so they ran to climb up the plastic garbage can a few feet down the fence. Frisk peeked up over the fence on their tiptoes, their newly curled hair bouncing in the night wind.  
_

_A sound of wood splintering broke the tense, still air as the men brought down the front door. Frisk could see well from across the small back lawn, and they watched as the two black clad figures burst into Frisk’s parents’ room like they were the cops busting criminals on all of Frisk’s cartoons. Frisk watched, helpless, as a small, shiny, L-shaped black object was withdrawn from the left man’s belt and leveled at their father. Their mother got up abruptly and stood in the way, all height and muscle and bravery. The one on the right sneered.  
_

_“Where is the child? Hand them over.” was all the left one had for reply. He stood straight up like a telephone pole. Frisk squinted and leaned closer, realizing that there was something off about both of the men’s eyes, their pupils so small that it looked like there was nearly nothing but iris, an empty pool of color. Frisk shivered without knowing why.  
_

_“How in the hell would we know?” inquired their mother in a remarkably light tone. She laced the next sentence with a bit of aggrieved hysteria: “They were hit by a car last week, and neither of us have anything concrete to offer you about the location of the dearly departed.” The man on the right did not react and remained stoic, robotic. Even Frisk knew the blatant lie fell flat, but it got no reaction from either man.  
_

_“Please, just leave us to grieve.” Frisk’s father put in timidly, standing to hold their mother’s hand. The one on the right stood unmoving as the left one’s trigger finger twitched, barely a half of a centimeter in total movement. There was a whistling sound, sharp and staccato, before their father’s head shattered in front of Frisk’s eyes. They watched the light in his dark eyes, the eyes they shared, die immediately, before they even heard him hit the floor. **Thud.**  
_

_There was a deafening quiet. **Red**. Red in their eyes, in their head, on their mother’s shirt as she began to sob. Frisk’s face, the last thing their father had given them, was soaked in seconds. No matter how many tears slid down Frisk’s cheeks, the red stains remained.  
_

_“I want your cooperation Alice.” said the one on the right, pulling his own gun out and pointing it her, slowly. She snarled at him and looked ready to launch herself at his throat. Of course, he was as unresponsive as ever, unblinking. Finally, the one on the left spoke: “There is no need for this, Alice. We were all once on the same side, you and I.”  
_

_“You ASSHOLE! YOU threw that out the window when you KILLED MY HUSBAND!” she screeched, the hysteria anything but a ruse now. Then, she seemed to settle on something, and steel herself in the face of her fate. Frisk had been trying to call out to her since their father fell, but their voice box was sealed shut, a cold, dreaded python ever tightening around their neck.  
_

_“You might as well kill me, gentlemen.” Frisk’s mother proclaimed, and Frisk tried screaming even harder now. In response, a puff of air and helplessness came out of their mouth and cowered in the moonlight. Their mother, on the other hand, looked as determined as ever, strong, ready for anything. “I’ve already told you. My child is dead. If you have any humanity left in you, please, just let me see my husband again.”  
_

_Then the men did something that such demons should’ve been incapable of doing: their faces contorted into twisted smiles. Then, to Frisk’s utter horror, they began **laughing**. “HUMANITY!” they mocked in unison, “YOU WEAK FOOL! WHAT HAS HUMANITY EVER DONE FOR YOU, FOR ME, FOR **ANY OF US?** ” they were shaking with either madness or rage, and Frisk could barely stand to watch. Every cell in their body wanted to jump up over the fence and take their mother far away from here, from these creatures that had painted Frisk’s soul red with their father’s blood.  
_

_The men’s fit died down with a long, slow decrescendo and they returned to their former, stock still postures. However, their voices were different when they continued: “Alice, I have tried everything. You must understand that. It pains me to do this, but I cannot allow a coward such as yourself to continue getting in my way.”  
_

_Frisk found their voice just as their mother laughed dully and looked death in the eyes. She paused to give the creatures a pitying look and sighed, sadly, “Liar.” The man on the right let his finger pull after a moment, and a horrible red blossom grew in an instant from their mother’s chest._

_____ _

***

They’d just stood there for awhile, looking over the fence with lifeless eyes as the men calmly left with the smug gait of people who just won an argument with nothing but their own wits. They stood there some more, waiting for something to happen. To wake up from this hellish nightmare and climb into their parents’ bed and make this feeling in their chest go away. When the sun rose and nothing had changed, Frisk got down from the garbage can.  


And now, they were sitting next to a dumpster, on their third day without food. They could’ve picked one of the choice piles of refuse inside the metal behemoth and rummaged up something edible, but they had lost the will to try a while ago. They didn’t even notice how much they were shaking and crying until they thought, through the haze of hunger and emptiness, about the odd noise that had started up once they got back to the present. It took Frisk some time in this state to realize that the small animal whimpers and hiccups were in fact coming from their own mouth.  


They resolved to find somewhere else to hide the next day, and resigned themselves to another sleepless night of looking at the stars and trying desperately to keep the past quiet.

They awoke to a loud bang from a few feet away and started, yelping before they could stop themself. Fear curled up their spine as another equally startled noise echoed them from the opposite side of the dumpster.  


A thin, lanky person with tight coiling curls in a halo about his head came to investigate, and Frisk desperately tried to scramble up. They had vastly underestimated their weakness, and fell against the rusty dumpster, crying out as they felt a long scratch go up their arm. The man seemed as scared as they were, and was at a bit of a loss as Frisk tried vainly to crawl away. He approached them slowly and Frisk attempted to scoot faster.  


“Hey, i-i-” he swallowed and tried again “i-i… it’s al-alright, k-kid.” His stutter was quick and percussive, exacerbated by his nerves, and Frisk had never heard anything like it before. Despite this new presence, Frisk had stopped flapping about like a half dead fish. He seemed to take this as a good sign, and he continued, “I-I know i-i-it’s not th-the best t-t-to be s-st-stuck outside. Wou-... w-wo-would it b-be alri-ri-right if I took y-you to m-m-my p-place for s-some f-food?” Naturally, Frisk was openly wary and gave him a skeptical raise of one thick black eyebrow. He seemed to descend back into his previous bashful, anxious demeanor: “N-no of c-c-course n-n-ot, wh-wh-why w-would y-you g-g-go with a st-str-stranger…” he looked away, and reached into his pocket.  


Remembering the last time someone had pulled out a concealed object, Frisk made another primitive noise of fear and flinched. At first the boy was confused, but he seemed to catch on after a beat, and put his hands at his sides. Frisk breathed heavily, their heart still racing, the red filling their vision. The boy, out of options, simply sat on the ground, legs crossed, as if waiting for instructions. Slowly, slowly, Frisk came back to the alleyway. They waited until they stopped shaking before testing their traitorous voice.  


“No.” they managed to croak, a little louder than they had intended. The boy looked a bit startled that the small, ragged thing in front of him had the capacity to communicate in any kind of intelligible way. He waited, and Frisk seemed to come to a conclusion: “Do you… promise not to hurt me?”  


They boy seemed even more anxious now, as he recoiled, “W-wh-why w-w-w-would I d-d-do such a-an aw-awf-awful th-th-thing?”  


Frisk thought about this for a few seconds, before saying quietly, “There wouldn’t be any good reason.” They started at their dirty bare feet and tried to stop their tear ducts from letting the last of their water run dry.  


He recognized that he probably shouldn’t be asking questions to a traumatized kid hiding behind a dumpster, and sighed, “C-come on, y-y-you c-can sit in the f-f-f-front seat i-if you w-w-want.” he thought for a moment and eyed Frisk’s lightly bleeding arm: “besides, y-you d-d-deserve a c-c-comfier ride, seeing a-a-as I-I’ll p-p-probably h-have to take y-you t-t-t-to get a t-tetanus sh-sh-shot.” Frisk had no idea what that was, but they figured that they’d been through worse in the last few weeks, so they nodded. The boy helped them stand up and them introduced himself as he carried Frisk to his car: “I-I-I’m Dan. I g-g-go b-by he.” he said shyly, with a warm smile that Frisk thought they didn’t deserve.  


“Frisk. I’m a they.” they rasped this at him like an elderly cat, and Dan smiled a bit brighter.  


“W-w-well F-frisk, before w-w-we g-g-go get y-you v-v-va-vaccinated, d-d-do you l-like p-p-pizza?” Frisk nodded, and Dan grinned. He started the car.


	2. Baking and Bribery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has been living with Dan as their caretaker for almost a year now, and he has become the big brother they never had. While they are working to get through their issues, they still fall victim to flashbacks and frequent panic attacks, along with terrible nightmares. At least now, they can navigate their life knowing that Dan has their back, so that they can reach out to start a new life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there's not much in store for little Frisk in this chapter, it is mostly fluff, filler, and a little character development. Things are sure to speed up after I get through the next few chapters, though.  
> Triggers include flashbacks, panic attacks, medication, and blood. Let me know if there is anything I've missed in the comments!

_Thunk. Thunk. Thunk._ Frisk bolted upright, bed sheets and pillows flying in every direction, their curly hair a matted mess above there eyes. There was no sunlight coming from underneath the blinds, but the noise and flashing headlights of a passing car that sped across their light brown walls were enough to solidify their panic. 

“Fr-frisk?” Dan's voice wavered tentatively out from behind their door. _Breathe. Like Dan taught you._ They inhaled, counted to seven, then let their breath slide out into the cold air, forcing their heart to slow down. 

“Sorry Dan, I’ll be right out.” They’d calmed down enough to throw their covers off and roll off their mattress onto the floor. _How can I be this exhausted when I just woke up?_ The light came on with a slight buzz of protest. They were greeted by familiar tan walls with a few paint chips scattered about, flat, scratchy carpet, and bare walls. Their mattress sat on the floor (which was nice, because there was no bed frame to stub their toes on). Frisk rubbed their arms and legs, trying to quell their goosebumps as they sifted through their drawers and brought out a pair of lightly bleached blue colored jeans with the pant legs rolled up once, black and white checkered socks, and a baggy plaid button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up. They threw their pajamas (a sweatshirt of Dan’s that fit them like a gown) at their bed. The oversized sweatshirt thunked against the wall, then fell down amongst the sheets.

Once they were dressed, Frisk rolled up their blinds about six inches and looked at their reflection in the window. Pitch black, half-closed eyes with bags underneath peered back at them underneath a mess of black curls that formed a shape like that of a deflated dodgeball. _I look like I’ve been hit by_ several _busses._ They ran their hand through their hair a few times, and tried to quell the feeling of dread in their stomach, and turned for the door.

“H-h-hi, Frisk.” said Dan, a little too peppy for this time of… _Does this even count as morning?_ Frisk looked at the bland analog clock in the hallway and confirmed that, technically, it did. “What k-k-kind of c-c-cake di-d-d-did ya f-f-f-feel l-l-like m-making?”. They scratched their chin in the best resemblance of thought that they were capable of when the sun had set only about 5 hours ago.

“Well, what’s Marcy’s favorite?” Frisk asked, a bit haltingly.

“U-umm, s-sh-sh-she d-d-doesn’t t-t-talk about i-i-it much… M-maybe w-w-we sh-should j-j-just g-g-go f-f-for st-st-st-store-b-b-bbought?” Dan cautioned.

“No, we can’t.” they proclaimed, sure of themself. “If I’m going to work _in her kitchen_ I can’t bring her food I didn’t make! That’s like-” they stumbled for words and gesticulated angrily in the air in front of them. “That’s basically surrendering! I’d be telling her I can’t cook and then asking her for a job at her restaurant!” 

“W-w-well, th-that’s one w-w-way to l-look at i-i-it.” Dan replied, startled by their fervor. He ran a hand between his red coils of hair and stared at the peeling paint on the wall.

“Remember that one time Alejo brought her chocolates and she gave them to you after his shift ended?” Dan snorted. “So… chocolate cake is a no…” Frisk gasped, “unless she didn’t like that brand, or-”

“M-m-marce-ce-celi-ne d-d-doe-doesn’t c-c-care ab-about th-that.” Dan interjected “I b-bou-bought h-her s-s-several d-di-di-different b-b-brands of s-s-as-alt f-from th-th-the grocer over th-the p-p-pa-past f-few weeks, an-and she did-did-didn’t even b-bat an ey-eye.”

“But that was for her customers, not herself!”

“T-t-touche.”

Frisk sighed. “Well, what about that time she had you buy an extra order of strawberries, but she took it home?”

“Sh-she c-c-could’ve just n-n-needed s-s-some str-stra-strawb-be-erries.” Dan pointed out.

“Ugh.” Frisk was defeated. Unless there was a cake that tasted like everything, they had no chance to get this right. “But, what about her morning coffee? Does she ever have it with anything special, like vanilla, or any flavoring?”

“I d-d-dou-ou-oubt it.”

“WAIT!” Frisk yelled, with enough enthusiasm to wake the entire apartment building.

“Sh-” Dan’s eyes widened as he tried to quiet them, and thought of Mrs. Martinez upstairs, who Frisk and surely woken up, and the lecture she’d be sure to have for him the next time they crossed paths. 

“What if we make a coffee cake? It’ll be great!” Frisk grinned as smugly as if they’d established world peace before breakfast. “Think about it, she has coffee every day! Usually, she drinks a liter of it before the restaurant even closes!”

“W-w-w-well, you c-c-can’t g-go wr-wr-wrong with c-c-coffee then.” Dan agreed, letting out a breath of relief that their excitement had subsided. He rubbed the bridge of his freckle-splattered nose and sighed.

Frisk had long since comandeered Dan’s tablet, so finding recipe was no trouble. Dan set out to baby proof the kitchen while Frisk scoured websites and search results for a coffee cake _without_ chocolate. Finally, they stumbled upon a recipe for a cake with a soft, light coffee-vanilla flavored base, and whipped cream frosting mixed with a small dose of espresso.

Before they broke into the flour, Dan insisted on rolling Frisk’s sleeves nearly up to their armpits and throwing an apron over their outfit. He quickly figured out the hard way that the kitchen was much too small for both himself and a bustling, hyper child, so he sat at the breakfast bar and fell asleep on a stool.

Frisk ran around the kitchen toting their small stool under their arm, mixing flour, making the countertop sticky, and wreaking havoc on any flat surface in the room. Eventually, they filled two square pans with batter, then tugged on Dan’s sleve until he was awake enough to set up the oven. Dan set the oven to 400 and demanded that Frisk wash their sticky, batter-coated hands before he sat them down at the table.

Dan and Frisk ate sugary cereal in silence as the cake baked. After Frisk nearly fell asleep into their bowl, Dan took their leftovers and let them doze while he finished making the frosting.

 

 **_Ding!_ ** The sound of the oven woke Frisk, and they started, nearly falling off their stool.

“S-s-sorry Frisk.” Dan rushed over to them as they began hyperventilating. _Where am I, what’s-_ Frisk shed their panic as they remembered. A weight settled back onto their shoulders as they thought of their parents. It played on loop in their head until all they could hear was the charged cracking of the air after the man had pulled the trigger, and the only smell was blood and gunpowder with no trace of the cake. Dan’s thumb rubbing their back brought them out of it, a little bit at a time.

“Sorry, I should’ve-” 

“Nah, i-it’s m-m-my f-fau-fault F-f-frisk, I l-let y-you e-e-eat wi-with-without t-t-t-taking yo-your meds.” _It’s not like the pills work miracles,_ Frisk wanted to say. Dan smiled apologetically and went to the medicine cabinet for Frisk’s Prozac. The bottle opened with a resounding pop, and Dan fished out a capsule.

Frisk swallowed it down with a glass of tap water and cleared their throat. Tentatively, they ventured, “Do you need any help with the decorating?”

Dan smiled, relieved. “I th-th-thought y-y-you’d n-nev-never a-a-ask.”

Frisk took a butter knife and, standing on their small plastic stool, spread the fluffy brown frosting over the latte colored cake. After they’d thoroughly coated that layer, Dan tipped the second pan upside down over the first layer, and the cake fell out onto the frosting with a satisfying splat. Frisk set to work on coating the outside while Dan fished around the cabinets for the frosting pipettes. 

Getting a small portion of cream cheese frosting he’d set aside, Dan spelled out “Happy Birthday Marceline!” on top of the cake in white, with the best cursive writing he could manage. Frisk then set to work on creating a border of clumpy flower-shapes around the bottom of the cake while Dan gathered their jackets and his keys.

Frisk insisted that they stay long enough for them to draw a coffee cup in the bottom corner of the cake. When they’d finished, Dan, peering at the analog clock in the hall with dread, slammed a lid over the cake and put it under his arm while Frisk struggled into their too-big jacket and hurried behind him out the door.

Dan’s had to turn his key in the ignition at least five times before his old pickup grumbled to life. Frisk looked out at the moths swarming the streetlight and then decided to draw a moth of their own in the condensation on the windows. The sun had nearly risen by the time Dan pulled into the familiar alleyway beside Marceline’s Diner.

Dan opened the back door, and Frisk entered behind him into the dark and unfamiliar kitchen. Dan flipped on the yellowed overhead lights, and Frisk let go of his hand as the shadows retreated from the countertops and shiny red and white checkered tiles to below the tables in each booth. They opened the door to Marceline’s small, cramped office, and Dan set the cake down on her desk, along with Frisk’s handwritten note (it had to be handwritten, or Frisk insisted that it would look too “formal and stuffy”).

Dan set to work on getting utensils and napkins ready while Frisk staked out their favorite booth and plugged in their earbuds to Dan’s tablet. They quickly drifted off again, listening to classical to relax. They enjoyed most music genres, but they always had a “mood” for each.

Marceline came in through the kitchen and let the door smack shut behind her. Frisk jumped and Dan flinched. “So, how’s this morning going?” she said in her usual gruff rasp. “Have y’all made any progress on fixing that leak?” she asked, raising her eyebrow at Dan as she held her hand out under a small stain on the ceiling tiles. A small droplet of dingy liquid hit her palm and she sighed. “Guess not, huh.”

Frisk rushed into the kitchen and unknowingly spared Dan from a rant. “Marcy, I know opening is always a bit rough, so I made you something to make the morning go faster!”

“Oh did ya?” Marceline scooped up Frisk and hefted their small frame up onto her strong, broad shoulders. They giggled and played with her short, spiky brown hair. Dan thanked whatever gods he thought might listen and got back to the preparations.

“It’s in your office,” Frisk explained, and Marceline chuckled.

“What did ya create for me this time, pumpkin?” she pushed open the door and ducked down to allow their heads to pass under the frame unscathed.

“I made you a coffee cake! Tada!”

Marceline smiled warmly and set Frisk down next to their masterpiece. “That’s sweet, pumpkin. How’d you know it was my birthday?”

“Well, your wife mentioned it when she came by last week!” explained Frisk as they folded their hands together and rested their chin on top, making a point to look as puppy-like as possible. “Could I ask you a favor?”

A deep, belly laugh flooded the tiny room. Marceline turned to the only dust-free thing in her office, her Keurig, and began making the largest size cup of coffee it offered. “What did ya have in mind?”

“I was hoping I could start working here,” Marceline raised an eyebrow at them, “but not touching the food. Just basic things, like mopping up after we close and helping Dan clean.”

“Why do you wanna work, hon?” Marceline asked, attempting to hold back laughter. “After all, ya might as well savor your time free from borin’ old adult life anyways.”

“Just for a few hours a day!” they pleaded, desperate. “I wanna earn some money!”

“Ya savin’ up or somethin’?” Marceline questioned, exasperated.

“Well, yeah.” they became a bit bashful “I really want to earn enough to buy a keyboard.”

“Like, for a computer?”

“No, like a piano.” they wrung their hands together in their lap and looked down. 

Marceline bit her lip and tapped on her right calf. A _tink tink tink_ rang out with each tap to her prosthesis, and Frisk began tapping their toes inside their shoes along to her rhythm.

“Well, I’ll think about it hon, but it’ll take a lot of paperwork with Dan because you’re a little younger than most of the applicants I get.” Marceline had to stop Frisk from victory dancing on her desk. “I’ll give ya a week to prove that ya can handle the work.” Frisk whooped. “There are some conditions though. First, ya start with three hours a day, so you can still do all the readin’ and stuff Dan has you do for homeschool. Second, ya start at 5 dollars an hour for the first week, then we decide from there. Third, ya do exactly what the other staff says. Deal, pumpkin?”

Frisk grinned as widely as their lips would permit. “Deal!”

“Alright hon.” Marceline matched their smile. “Guess your probation starts today.”

 

Frisk worked hard to mop after the little baby that always sat at booth number three with his mom while she downed enough coffee to power Frisk’s whole neighborhood. They danced around on the checkered tile, avoiding the glares of Mr. McCormick, an old curmudgeon who only ordered ham and toast each morning, with black coffee on the side. They even held the door open for Mx. Phillips, another elderly customer who hobbled in every Monday for a glass of orange juice and a side of eggs. 

They had been stuck in this restaurant every weekday for about a year now, watching the world revolving around them as they did their math lessons on Dan’s tablet and tried not to die of boredom. But working here was just the change of pace they needed. Frisk got to make conversation with the customers, feel the hot plates of food on their fingers through the plastic trays, and practice their cursive while scribbling down people’s orders for Dan and Alejo to fill. 

The end of their workday came all too soon when Marceline let Dan off for his lunch break. He sat Frisk down to do their homework, not without a good deal of protest. Scowling, they plugged in their headphones and listened to their 80’s playlist for a while, then switched to classical music when the singing started to distract them from their reading. Frisk swayed to Rhapsody in Blue and skimmed through a small passage about tropical rainforests. 

The restaurant wound down around 8pm, and they became restless. As the last few customers lingered, either getting coffee before their night shifts began or relaxing over dinner, Frisk decided to go back into the kitchen. They narrowly avoided stepping onto the stained ceiling tile in the middle of the floor, and looked upward to see Dan standing on a step stool, his head and shoulders disappearing into the square-shaped abyss as he fumbled around with a wrench, cursing softly. 

“Hey Dan?” Frisk ventured tentatively. 

“Y-yeah?” He replied, his frustration with the leaking plumbing peeking through his patient tone. 

“Um, do you mind if I clean up the last few booths? Almost everyone has already left, and their dishes are sitting out all over.”

Dan huffed. “W-well that _s-sh-should_ b-be Alejo’s j-j-j-job, b-but of c-c-course he l-left ear-early. G-go ah-ah-ahead.”

Frisk happily obliged, glad for something to do to take their mind off their boredom. They were especially antsy and restless today, and sitting around gave them too much room to think. 

They picked up a few trips worth of plates, and then bided their time, waiting for the last customer, a tall person sitting at the last booth in the corner with nothing but a glass of water in front of them. The time ticked by and Frisk’s mind settled into an unpleasantly stagnant state. They were wary of allowing their mind to wander, as it generally fell into things that Mrs. Alvarez, their therapist, described as “best left untouched, most of the time”. Their eyes began flicking periodically to the darkness outside the windows, scanning the crowded streets for the faces of the burglars two years ago. They swung their legs against the bench, plugged in their headphones, and then took them back out again, because they felt like it would make it harder to hear if anything happened. They fidgeted and scratched at the tabletop, biting their lips and tearing the outer layers of skin. They only though to stop once they tasted blood. 

The figure finally got up, without finishing their last glass. They turned for the door, and Frisk froze like a rabbit in their tracks. The person looked exactly like one of _them. Did they come back for me?_ they thought, beginning to hyperventilate. _Where’s the other?_

Their breath increased rapidly and they looked desperately at their eyes, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. The lights flashed off their glasses, then faded to reveal eyes as grey as they had seen that day, but with full pupils. A normal person. They gave Frisk a confused glance as they buttoned their jacket and turned for the door. 

Frisk still couldn’t move. They tried convincing themself that was just a normal person, because they had to be. _Their pupils were there. They had regular eyes. They didn’t shoot you._ Despite their desperate rambling thoughts, they dove back into that night and were still smelling the coppery odor of blood when Dan came to get them. 

Dan stopped and put a hand on their shoulder when he noticed they were trembling. Frisk was a million miles away; they barely felt it. He pulled them onto his lap and simply hugged them into his chest until the shaking stopped. 

Frisk sat for a while and just listened to Dan’s breathing. They tried to match his steady pace. They felt cold sweat slide down their spine and pressed their head into his shirt until they could move enough to hug him back. 

Dan sat back to face Frisk, and forced his mouth into a smile. “Ice c-c-cream?”

Frisk could only nod and smile back because their throat was too tight squeak out a reply. 

 

Frisk decided on mango ice cream, the newest flavor at the small sweet shop across from Marceline’s Diner. Dan always let them get chocolate waffle cones on bad days. They took their cone and wandered off to the topping line, then handed it to the cashier to weigh when they were done. Dan paid a little extra for the obscene amount of rainbow sprinkles and strawberries piled on top. 

Dan waited at a small table in the corner farthest from the windows. Frisk sat down and ate the ice cream absentmindedly. “F-fe-feel b-b-b-better?”

They nodded and smiled, but they knew their face didn’t form quite the right shape. Dan sighed and took out his tablet. Frisk tensed. Dan always typed when he needed to say something important, especially at the end of the day when he was tired of talking, because Frisk still wasn’t quite fluent in Sign Language yet. He turned the tablet to face them. 

**Be honest, Frisk. I know when you’re lying to keep me from worrying. Did something happen?**

Frisk bit the inside of their cheek. “No. I just got a little scared, because a person kind of looked… like one of them.”

Dan began typing again. **So, that started the panic attack? Was it a flashback?**

“Yeah. I mean, that started the flashback, but the panic was already happening.”

**Why?**

“There’s never an actual _reason_. I just sit down or let my mind wander even a little and it happens. Especially at night.”

**Shit. I didn’t give you your meds today at noon did I?**

“Oh.” Frisk decided to pretend that they’d forgotten. “Yeah, I guess. It’s not your fault though.” They bit their lips, a bad habit of theirs, and they began bleeding again. _I thought I could make it, though. I shouldn’t_ need _the stupid pills! Why am I so screwed up?_

Dan must have noticed that they began glaring at the table because he turned the screen to them again. **You didn’t want to take them, did you?**

Frisk did not reply. 

**You know, I know it sucks. Meds suck. Especially mental health ones. But you’ve gotta take them because stopping just makes it even worse. I know they don’t even close to cure anything. But they help you feel better than you would without them.**

“I shouldn’t need them to be normal!” Frisk snapped, and then bit down on their lips again to keep from yelling. The taste of blood was starting to make them think about it. 

 **Frisk, you’re never gonna be “normal”. Excuse my language, but you’ve been through some shit that’s probably going to stay with you for your whole life. I know it’s not fair. I know it shouldn’t be that way, and it’s not your fault that it is.** Frisk swallowed and thought _How can you be so sure? If my parents had given me up like smart people, at least I wouldn’t be here to make such a mess_ _of the rest of my life._ They started to cry, and Dan moved his chair over to their side of the table and put his arm around them. Dan kept typing. **But you’re a good person with a good heart, and the meds make it easier for you to live. They help make the attacks shorter and less frequent. Mrs. Alvarez only recommended them for you because your case is so severe, and she knew they’d help.**

“But,” Frisk sniffed, “you’ve gotta pay for them, and deal with me! It’s not fair that you got stuck with me and all my problems and I get to live off of you like a _leech_.”

**You’re not a goddamn leech Frisk! I like you more than anyone. You keep me company, you keep me motivated, you take me exploring and try all the ice cream flavors before me to tell me if they taste bad. You’re my family at this point. You’re my little sibling, and I’m not gonna sit here and let you shit-talk yourself. I’d be a bad brother if I did. I know you get depressed and it feels like there’s no way out because the chemicals in your brain are fucking up your life. That’s not true, no matter how bad it feels. I’m gonna be here for you, okay? Because you’re worth it. You deserve a million brothers taking care of you.**

Frisk swallowed and nodded, coming over to sit on Dan’s lap and finish their cone. He smiled, and let them sit in silence until their throat loosened and the pit in their stomach faded back to its usual size. 

 

Frisk finished all they could stomach of their waffle cone in the passenger seat of Dan’s car, being extra careful not to drip any ice cream onto the seat. They let him finish the rest when their stomach started to twinge. 

Once Dan got to the apartment building, Dan hoisted Frisk onto his back and carried them up to their room, letting them push the elevator button on the way. 

“Y-you’v-ve g-g-gotta take y-y-your Pr-pra-prazosin before b-b-b-bed, alright?” They nodded and poured themself a glass of water from the sink as Dan fished through the medicine cabinet for the bottle. They took it and tried not to focus on the feeling of the capsule sliding down their throat. 

After putting on pajamas and brushing the ice cream taste out of their mouth, they sat on the couch with Dan and watched a trashy reality TV show that he liked for a while. After an episode, Dan led them to bed and left their radio on the classical station. 

They fell asleep after watching the moon for a while, listening to a mournful violin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus! This work is just getting started, but I had to work through a semester of school and my own laziness before I was ready to revisit this fic. I hope to update every day or so with a new chapter (I can't promise that it will be long, though). This part of the fic should be finished within the next few weeks, so I can get to the more cannon parts of the Undertale game (but what is a protagonist without a tragic backstory, am I right?).


	3. Custard for a Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has grown into their new life, working at Marceline's and being teased by Dan. It would be getting boring, but a new customer (a teenage boy from out of town) keeps things interesting enough for Frisk. Frisk ends up asking him out, and their first date goes off without a hitch... sort of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly fluff, with a new character addition and some character development. A little bit of angst at the end, but Frisk has been through worse.  
> Triggers for this chapter include gunshots (fake/sound effect ones), teenage awkwardness, panic attacks, and references to trauma. Let me know if I missed anything!

Frisk was usually too polite to stare, but the new customer at Marceline’s diner made it hard not to. He (they assumed he was a he, anyway) had piercing blue eyes and electric blue hair that he pulled into a short, spiky ponytail on hot days, showing a stark undercut. It was a good haircut for summer, and it made him stand out. He wore tight shirts that showed off his thin but fit frame, and the dense freckles across the pale bridge of his nose looked like constellations. Frisk would die before admitting it to Dan, but they were a little obsessed.

After watching them stare at the boy for the third time that day as they attempted to mop up after breakfast hours, Dan asked them to come into the kitchen. “Y-y-you, know, I th-th-think you’re o-old enough t-t-t-to date, if y-y-you wa-wa-want to.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows at Frisk suggestively while blatantly looking over at him. Frisk blushed and decided to scrutinize their shoes. They noticed a hole in them and became even more embarrassed.

“Thanks for your permission, _Dad,_ ” (they called him that whenever he decided to act more like a parent than they thought a brother should. It gave them a small twinge) “but I am not currently in the market for a date-mate.” 

Dan rolled his eyes and went back to doing the dishes, deciding not to comment on their terrible lying skills. _Like hell you aren’t._ “W-w-whatever. Y-your shi-shi-shift ends i-in 30 mi-min-minutes.”

They nodded and returned to mopping.

 

Frisk's lunch break couldn’t have come at a better time. Just as they clocked out, the boy asked for his bill. Alejo waited tables after lunch, so he brought the boy the bill as Frisk steeled themself to talk to him. They walked over and stood by his booth awkwardly until he looked up.

“Hi,” he said, a little tentatively. 

“Hey,” Frisk breathed and decided to jump right in. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? I know a lot of fun places around town if you wanted to.” they cursed themself for a million different mistakes as the boy responded.

“Romantically, you mean?” Frisk nodded sheepishly, “Um, sure!” The boy paused, seeming to remember something. “By the way, are you a boy or a girl?” 

Frisk blushed and lamented their choice to wear a skirt to work today, and also show off their flat chest with a tank top, all while forgetting their “They/Them” pin on their dresser. “I’m nonbinary, sorry.”

“Oh, my bad, it’s fine!” the boy blushed, seemingly as embarrassed as they were. “What pronouns do you use?”

“They. You?”

“I prefer he/him.” Frisk smiled, glad that he’d been so nice about it. They took Ebbot City’s acceptance for granted, and didn’t realize that people from other places weren’t always as friendly about Frisk’s pronouns (that is, they didn’t until they found themself being yelled at by an elderly woman from the country one morning. Dan had nearly gone to blows with her before Marceline asked her to leave). “What’s your name?” he asked.

“I’m Frisk. What’s yours?”

“Maverick. Are you free for the rest of the day?”

“Sort of. I don’t have to work until 3.”

“Then do you want to head out? We’ve got three hours.”

“Sure! Wanna head across the street? The candy shop over there has got everything.” Alejo came by and took Maverick’s bill, giving the two kids a friendly nod as he left. 

Maverick made great conversation. He was talkative but made sure Frisk said their fair share. “So, what music do you listen to?” he queried. Frisk paused. 

“I like a lot of different genres. Right now I mostly listen to 80’s or electronica, but I also love classical.”

“That’s cool, I’ve never met anyone who likes classical.” He blushed after he realized how that sounded, but Frisk shrugged it off and decided to take it as a compliment. “I’ve always liked 80’s myself.” Frisk smiled and offered him an earbud, and he took it. They played their 80’s playlist, and Maverick swayed along to “Don’t Stop Me Now” as they both traversed the crosswalk, fingers brushing as Frisk put their hand in their pocket. 

The Olde Sweet Shoppe was bustling, full of kids of all ages, and plenty of adults. People never seemed to outgrow Ebbot City’s favorite candy shop, and it was almost always packed. Maverick agreed that they would each pay for their own spoils. Frisk decided to buy a bag of strawberry candies, a personal favorite of theirs, and a few packs of Gushers. Maverick bought some coffee candies and a few Pixy Stix. After they finished in the candy section, they made their way over to the ice cream bar, and Maverick agreed to split a bowl of frozen custard.

Frisk filled it up with berry custard on one side and coffee on the other, then peppered it with sprinkles and extra strawberries onto their side. “Hey, Maverick, what toppings do you like?” He sauntered over to the topping section and proceeded to sprinkle his side of the custard with Reese’s Pieces and toasted coconut. They split the bill for the towering bowl and sat down together at a table for two in the corner.

“How’d you know I liked coffee flavor?” asked Maverick as Frisk sat down across from him and handed him a spoon.

“Lucky guess, ‘cause I saw all the coffee candies you bought. I figured it’d be a safe bet. Although, I didn’t want to coat your side in Pixy Stix powder…”

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. I like both, but definitely not together.” Maverick scrunched up his nose, which made his freckles ripple and stretch. Frisk thought that was cute. They let him take a few more bites before they picked back up.

“Did you just move here?”

“Yeah, I moved from Delta City at the end of the school year.”

“Really? I’ve heard it’s hot down there year-round.”

“Uh-huh, it’s usually about 32 ºC there, even in the winter. In the summer, it can get to 40º!”

“Damn, no way!” Frisk exclaimed, aghast. “I melt when it gets to 25º!”

“It can get bad, yeah, but the beaches help. My dad taught me to surf to stave off the heat.” he paused wistfully, “I’m not used to how much cooler it is here. It’s really nice, but I miss surfing and boogie boarding.”

“Well, a few crazy people surf here, but you’ll need a wetsuit. The water’s freezing.”

Maverick brightened at that. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind. So, what grade are you in?”

“Oh, I would be going into 8th grade next year, but I’m homeschooled. What about you?”

“I’ll be in 9th.”

“Oh yeah? High school, huh?”

“I’m so nervous. I don’t know how I’ll keep my grades up. How does that work for homeschoolers?”

“We just have to take a few tests to make sure we’re up to standards, and only a few of them matter to colleges.” Frisk tried not to be smug. “It’s a pretty sweet gig.”

“Lucky!” Maverick groaned and put a hand to his forehead theatrically. Frisk giggled and looked down to their custard, and Maverick mirrored them. “Oh, shit, it’s melting!” Frisk laughed and dug in, trying not to drip the half-melted mess onto their shirt.

Maverick and Frisk ate the rest of the bowl in easy silence, then put the dish in a bin near the trashcan. “We still have two hours or so, and I haven’t seen that new SuperBat movie yet. Do you want to see if the theatre has a matinee?”

“Yeah, that’d be fun! The theatre down the block probably has a showing; we can make it if we hurry.” Frisk took Maverick’s hand and ran down the street. Maverick kept pace with them easily, as he was 15cm or so taller than Frisk (they were only about 150cm tall, and they’d stopped growing last year). 

The tickets were cheap, as they always were in the middle of the day. Alejo’s older brother, Jose, was collecting tickets, so he let them in with their candy. “Tell Alejo I said hi.” He winked. Frisk laughed and promised to deliver the message.

The theatre was filled with all luxury seats, which impressed Maverick. Frisk found it funny, as all the theatres in Ebbot City had put in the nicer seats a few years ago. Their seats were near the front, on the far left side of the theatre.

Frisk reached for the armrest at the same time that Maverick did, and took his had before they could change their mind. Maverick blushed but didn’t protest, so Frisk held it all through the previews. 

SuperBat 3: Return of The Jester started out with little fanfare. Most of the action was from ray guns and lasers, so it didn’t really bother Frisk. They nodded off while SuperBat was talking to her love interest, and Maverick nudged them awake. “Wanna lay on my shoulder, sleepyhead?” They nodded and leaned into him. The sound of his soft, easy breathing kept them awake.

“Thanks.”

In the climax of the movie, SuperBat cornered The Jester in an abandoned factory. He was all out of his usual weapons and tricks, which lulled SuperBat into a false sense of security. Frisk jolted upright when The Jester pulled out a pistol and leveled it at SuperBat. “SorryMaverickI’llbeback!” Frisk turned and sped up the aisle. They heard the gunshot loud and clear through the surround sound speakers lining the theatre, and sprinted out to the bathroom.

Frisk locked themself in a stall and hyperventilated into their hands. The gunshot. It reverberated through their skull, over and over, until they thought they might be sick. After their breathing slowed down, they came out of the stall and splashed their face with running water from the sink. _What’s wrong with me? Was it because it was sudden? Was it seeing the gun, or hearing it?_ They puzzled over the events, trying to figure out if they could’ve prevented their attack when Maverick came in.

They were confused for a split second because on their more feminine days, they went into the women’s bathroom, but they realized that the theatre had gender-neutral bathrooms and relaxed. They hurriedly wiped their face with a paper towel and faced him.

“Are you okay?” he blurted, visibly out of his element. Frisk cursed themself for being so careless. They should’ve asked Jose about triggers before they even went in.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” They smiled, trying to seem that way. “I just get spooked by gunshots, especially pistols. Sorry,”

“No, it’s fine! I was just worried, and I thought you might be uncomfortable ‘cause of me or something.” He looked at the bathroom tiles and blushed slightly. Frisk smiled and walked over to give him a hug. He was surprised but hugged them back quickly.

“It’s not you, don’t worry. I’m just weird.”

“No, you’re not, shut up,” Maverick said, almost scolding Frisk. They laughed and went back into the theatre, holding his hand.

There were no gunshots for the rest of the movie.


	4. Search and Seizure.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk has an awkward conversation with their therapist, and some new neighbors throw a wrench into Frisk's life. Otherwise known as the chapter where everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shit gets angsty in this chapter, although it takes a few pages and a really awkward conversation to get there (it gives you some needed info about Frisk, so bear with me). Note that there are mentions of genitals, sex organs and hormones, puberty, and other lovely teenage things, along with some homophobic/transphobic language and deadnaming. There is also some police discrimination, marijuana use, suicidal thoughts/contemplation of suicide, and a heaping helping of gender dysphoria! Let me know if I missed anything.

Penelope Alvarez had dealt with tough patients before, but Frisk was… difficult. They were nice, and polite, and they tried as hard as they could, but their trauma was deeply rooted in their understanding of themself, and their triggers seemed to lurk around every corner. For them, one panic attack per day was the best she could hope for, and at their worst, they could barely leave their room.

“So, how have things been on your end? Are you ready for summer to end?” she asked, hoping to ease Frisk into today’s session. They’d get to the heart of the matter soon enough.

“I mean, summer ending isn’t such a big deal, as far as I’m concerned. I’m not super excited for the rainy season, but I’m more worried about Maverick. He’s really nervous about starting high school. I offered to tutor him, but nothing seems to help.”

Mrs. Alvarez wasn’t sure if Frisk was trying to shift the focus onto their boyfriend or not, but she decided to go along with it for now. “You know, if Maverick starts to seem anxious, you can recommend him to us. We have academic counseling downstairs.” Frisk nodded and smiled.

“So,” she continued, “how have you been doing this past week? Have your attacks been any different than usual? Any changes in your mood?”

“I’ve been happier day to day since Maverick and I met, but nothing about the attacks have changed. I’m keeping up with my work, and I’ve been practicing the piano more than usual, for the recital in September. I guess it’s just the same old same old.”

Mrs. Alvarez typed up a summary of Frisk’s responses as she continued. “Is anything else going on in your life right now?”

Frisk thought to themself for a few seconds, then seemed to clam up a little. “Yeah, actually…” They paused, seeming uncomfortable. “I’ve been experiencing voice cracks lately, and I was wondering… if you know how to spot puberty in someone like me.”

_ Oh.  _ Mrs. Alvarez was not prepared for that. “Let me pull up some notes from your doctor.” She read through Frisk’s medical chart. Frisk was intersex and their anatomy was unique to say the least. Their pediatrician, Doctor Benson, had trouble finding a case similar to theirs and assumed Frisk would have a similar experience when he finally did. “As you may know, you have both ovaries and testes, both of which will produce different sex hormones around the time of puberty.” Frisk was visibly embarrassed, but they seemed to understand her. “Dr. Benson has determined that your testes are the more functional of the two sets, and they will produce enough testosterone to halt menstruation. Also, Dr. Benson knows that you do not possess mammary glands and that your testosterone levels will likely prevent any breast growth.” Frisk let out a breath they didn’t know they’d been holding. “However, you may experience a drop in the pitch of your voice. Dr. Benson predicts that your voice won’t lower to the same pitch as the average male due to your estrogen levels being higher than the average male’s, but it will be lower than the average female’s. You may experience some hair growth in your lower regions, as well as in your armpits, but Dr. Benson says any other body hair will probably remain sparse, judging by your family history and genetics.”

“Oh…” Frisk paused as if they wanted to say more.

“Do you think this will conflict with your gender identity? I can try and get you a prescription for hormone-blockers, but it may take a while to go through. It could be a year before you’re approved, and I’m not sure about the legality of the prescription, as Dan is not technically your legal guardian…”

 

“I guess it would be nice if you could get me some, but if you can’t, it’s not a big deal…” By the look on Frisk’s face, it was a pretty big deal to them, so Mrs. Alvarez decided to pry.

“What changes would bother you, of those I mentioned?”

“I guess the hair would be annoying, but I can shave. I’m not sure if that’s a gender thing or if the idea of that hair just grosses me out. I’m not sure how I feel about my voice dropping, but if it does, people might not misgender me as a girl so often, so that’ll be nice… I guess I just have more questions. Will my um… will my penis change at all? I don’t really want it to grow or anything....” They were mortified that they had to ask the question and avoided Mrs. Alvarez’s eyes.

“Well, I don’t know too much about that, as it’s not my area of expertise, medically speaking…” she read through Dr. Benson’s notes again. He had left a small note about genital development at the very bottom of his notes. “Dr. Benson thinks that you may experience some growth in that area, but he is unsure how long that will take. He says there is a strong likelihood that your sex drive will increase and that your penis will function sexually.” Frisk tilted their head down so that their thick black curls hid their eyes. Mrs. Alvarez stopped, concerned. “Does this make you feel too uncomfortable? I can move on to another topic if this is upsetting.”

“It’s alright, I need to know this stuff sooner or later anyway,” whispered Frisk, seeming sad. “Is there any possibility of… pregnancy? I’m not having sex now, but I’d want to know for the future.”

“No… Dr. Benson says that your ovaries do not produce the cells necessary to have a child, and lack of menstruation would generally stop that process regardless.”

“So… I can’t get pregnant?” Frisk said bluntly, looking up. Mrs. Alvarez simply nodded. Frisk didn’t seem all that surprised. “I guess I figured I couldn’t.”

“How do you feel about that?” Mrs. Alvarez had always thought that line was cliche for a therapist, but sometimes it was all she could think of.

“I’m alright with it. Being pregnant would be really weird, and ever since Dan took me in, I’ve been thinking it would be better to adopt anyway. Is it possible for me to get someone else… pregnant?”

“I believe so, but that would require some tests by Dr. Benson after you get through puberty.”

“Oh. Okay.” they didn’t seem thrilled by the prospect, but Mrs. Alvarez decided not to push the issue. 

“Do you want me to send a request for your hormone blockers?” Mrs. Alvarez asked.

“Yes, please. Sorry, this session was awkward.”

“Frisk, don’t ever think something like this is too awkward to talk about.” Mrs. Alvarez scolded, a little sterner than she’d intended. “It’s important, even though it may be a little uncomfortable. If you have any more questions, please let me know.”

“Okay.” Frisk smiled wearily, clearly ready to move on. Mrs. Alvarez turned back to her keyboard and began talking about their medication.

 

Frisk was not prepared for puberty. The thought made them want to curl up in a ball and die. When they imagined growing breasts, having a period, and beginning to look like a woman, they became panicked.  _ Thank God that probably won’t happen.  _ But the alternative was just as bad, they realized, as they pictured themself growing excessive body hair and muscles, warping themselves into an excessively masculine guy.  _ That  _ might  _ actually happen… _ The thought of facial hair made them want to puke.

Dan picked them up from Mrs. Alvarez’s office. He noticed their low mood.  **What’s up, kiddo?** He signed. His stutter had been getting worse the past few days, and he had been signing in almost all of their conversations. 

“Nothing much.”

**Are you sure?**

“Well, Mrs. Alvarez and I talked about the joys of puberty today, so,” they retorted, letting their anger bleed into their voice.

**Shit, sorry Frisk. What happened?**

“Apparently, I’ll be much more masculine afterward, and I’m not exactly excited about that.”

**That makes you dysphoric? I’m sure if you change your presentation that’ll help-**

“But I don’t WANT to change my presentation!” Frisk yelled, getting desperate. “If I make myself look too much like a girl to counteract my body, that’ll just make me feel  _ worse _ .” They bit back tears and sighed. They had hoped that Dan would understand it a little more, but it was hard when he didn’t have to deal with feeling like he was trying to be something he wasn’t. He didn’t look in the mirror and see someone else staring back at him. “The worst part is, Mrs. Alvarez probably can’t get me hormone blockers in time because the waiting list is so long, and when I get to the front of the line, they may not let me take them because you can’t give me permission, legally.”

**Oh.** Dan always seemed guilty when problems with parental consent arose. He hadn’t been able to legally adopt Frisk yet, because he didn’t have the first clue how to without them being immediately taken by Child Services. 

Frisk bit their lip, embarrassed about their outburst. “Whatever. Its what happens, I guess. I’m sorry I was being shitty about it.”

Dan smiled back at them.  **No worries. It’s alright to be pissy about big stuff like this. Let's go home.**

Frisk nodded, still unable to smile, and Dan’s truck sputtered to life.

The drive home was uneventful. They passed Mrs. Martinez in the parking lot as she hauled her groceries up to her apartment. Frisk waved at her, and she scowled back. Her wrinkled face sallow cheeks that hung like jowls, which always looked more striking when she frowned. She bore an uncanny resemblance to a grumpy old bulldog.

Dan carried in a few bags of their groceries, leaving Frisk to carry the last two. He always went shopping on Fridays when they were with Mrs. Alvarez. Frisk eyed the raw chicken breast and potatoes in their bags with mild disgust and ran to catch up.

Rhapsody in Blue was frustrating. They’d been playing piano for almost four years now (it would be four on their birthday this Halloween), and they’d always wanted to learn it. Dan had finally given them the sheet music for it a few weeks ago, but they were still a ways away from mastering the piece. There were a few sections of the piano solo in the piece that continued to elude them

They played the song out loud in their room, but the tiny speakers on their hand-me-down phone didn’t do it justice. They ran through the piece, section by section, again and again, ironing out almost all the kinks… except one. In the finale of the song, there was a riff that was giving them trouble. They tried it and kept screwing up until they pounded the keys as hard as they dared (if they broke their keyboard, they’d never forgive themself). Mrs. Martinez banged on their left wall, as a signal to “shut the hell up already”. Frisk decided to call it a day.

They heard a light knock at their door as they were putting their keyboard away. It was from Dan.  **Hi Frisk. Still having trouble?**

“Yeah, I can’t get it right.”

**Well, you’ve been practicing for two hours. Take a break, before you hurt yourself.** Dan laughed.  **Besides, that stupid reality TV show is on, if you want to watch.**

“Oh hell yeah!”

The reality TV shows weren’t meant to be a comedy, but Frisk and Dan always found them funny anyway. The particularly trashy ones seemed to be paying actors (or professional idiots, as Dan called them) to “live a normal life” while making as much drama as humanly possible. Frisk would be jealous of their apparent wealth, but the way those people used it made them think that they were almost better off without that much money. 

As Frisk watched the Johnson family feud over a purse, Maverick called them. They turned the TV down, and let Maverick vent to them about his parents. “We went ‘school shopping’ today, and they basically bought me only dress clothes. Fancy shirts and fucking ties, Frisk, not even a pair of converse! It’s like they think they’re shipping me off to prep school, it’s crazy!”

“I would complain about it with you, but I feel like you’d be cute in a tie,” Frisk replied.

“Aww, shut up.” 

Frisk laughed. “Well, I would offer you some of my clothes, but nothing I have will actually fit you…”

“Yeah, even your baggiest jeans would be a stretch for me.” his laugh was fuzzed over by the static of the phone call. “If you could choose your height, would you still want to be as short as you are?”

“I don’t know.” Frisk rolled over in the recliner, chewing on their lip. “I guess I’d be a little taller so that people wouldn’t assume I’m a girl cause of my height, but I like being fun sized otherwise. I guess I’d stay the same. What about you?”

“I’d like to be really tall, mostly so people could take me seriously. My dad is really tall, and people seem to respect him more just for that.”

“That’s kinda dumb, that people are nicer just because he’s tall.”

“True, but it would be fun to have a more  _ intimidating _ presence.”

“Pfft, even if you were eight feet tall you’d still be a marshmallow on the inside.”

“At least I won’t be a bite-sized one.” Frisk could swear that Maverick was sticking out his tongue at them on the other end of the line.

“Hey, take it back, dork!” they teased.

“You first! Oh, shit, my parents are home. I’ve gotta run.”

“See ya later, dork.”

“Bye Frisk!” He hung up. Frisk wished he would tell his parents they were dating, but he came from a very religious family. They knew that his parents would never approve of his bisexuality, or of him dating someone like them.

Dan knocked on the table, and Frisk turned to him, surprised.  **Dinner’s ready!** He signed.

Dan laid out a bowl of mashed potatoes for Frisk, mixing some chicken breast into his own bowl. Frisk, a determined vegetarian, declined the meat quickly. Dan rolled his eyes good-naturedly and went back to his own bowl.

Just as they were loading their bowl into the dishwasher, the doorbell rang. Dan went to see who’d be knocking at 8 o-clock at night while Frisk finished up the dishes.

A letter was waiting, set neatly in the center of the welcome mat, edges parallel to the edges of the rug. Frisk surmised that whoever had set it there was possibly the most perfectionistic person to ever exist, and nearly laughed aloud at the absurdly fancy calligraphy on the front. “From, the Hendersons.”

Frisk read the letter aloud to Dan as he closed the door. 

“Dear fellow tenants of the Birch Street Apartment Complex,

We are moving into the unit next door to yours, on the right. We would appreciate a peaceful atmosphere for our newborn son, so we ask that there are no loud noises coming from your apartment between 6 P.M. and 10 A.M. the next day. We look forward to meeting you!

Your new neighbors,

The Hendersons.”

Frisk laughed, and Dan did his best to hold back a snort of his own.  **Did our neighbors just give us a curfew? What the hell?** He could barely sign a sentence because he was doubled over laughing. Frisk hung up the letter on the fridge, laughing until their stomach hurt.

 

They figured a generic grocery store sheet cake would be enough to appease the family next store. They were proven wrong as soon as they wrang the doorbell. Frisk could hear someone sprinting to the door, and they were nearly hit in the stomach by the doorknob as a scrawny blonde preschooler opened the door with enough force to send it swinging into the wall. “Mommy, Mommy, someone’s here! They have a cake!”

“Alright, Jacob, move out of the way.” a middle-aged blonde woman came to the door, looking run ragged. The bags under her eyes were the color of a week-old bruise. She eyed Frisk disdainfully and gave Dan an odd stare before taking the cake from Frisk’s outstretched arms. “Come in!”

Frisk stared at their large couch with envy as the family cat, a fat orange tabby, came to rest on their toes. They leaned down to let it sniff their fingers, then picked it up once it got to know them. It sat in their arms and looked at them disinterestedly.

A man, presumably the woman’s husband, came out from a bedroom down the hall. He walked in the kitchen, took one look at Frisk, and blurted, “Are you a queer?”

_ Well, fuck. _ Frisk had no idea what to say, as they recognized their breathing slowly begin to speed up. A million insults flooded their mind, but their throat had clamped shut. The cat nuzzled the underside of their chin.

“E-ex-excuse m-m-m-m-me?” Dan retorted, almost yelling. His stutter always got worse when he was pissed.

“Honey, don’t say that word in front of Jacob!” exclaimed Mrs. Henderson, oblivious to Dan’s rapidly reddening face. “Anyway, are you two boys related?” Dan’s hands began to shake even more.

“We are. He’s my older brother, sort of,” said Frisk, thinking it best to look at the cat rather than deal with Mrs. Henderson’s judgmental squint.

“Where are your parents?”

_ Now _ Frisk was beginning to panic. “Um, I don’t live with them anymore. Dan here is 24, so he’s perfectly capable of taking care of us.” Mrs. Henderson seemed even more suspicious now. Dan signed to Frisk frantically, spelling out  **Fuck these assholes, let’s get out of this shithole.**

“What did your brother say?” Mr. Henderson asked, staring at the pink elastic that held their hair in a half-up.

Frisk cleared their throat. “Well, it’s been really nice meeting you all, but we have to leave. My brother and I have to go make dinner. See you around!” it was all Frisk could do to keep from running for the door.

A few hours later, there was a knock on the door. Dan groaned and went to get it, coming face to face with a police officer. He was a tall white man with thinning hair and an unimpressed look on his face. Dan beckoned for Frisk and signed  **Say “Can I help you, officer” as nicely as you can.** He kept his arms much closer to his sides than usual, and his movements were much slower. Frisk thought he looked afraid and didn’t know why.

“Can I help you, officer?” they inquired, trying to sound friendly despite the fact that they would rather be in bed.

“Yes.” He said authoritatively, clearly uncomfortable with Dan using sign. “I would like to see your adoption papers, and any other legal documents you have pertaining to your prolonged custody of this child.”

Dan went pale. Frisk could feel the blood drain from their own face as Dan continued.  **Ask him for a warrant.**

“Do you have a warrant offi-”

“Please let me in.” Frisk began breathing harder and reached for their phone in the back pocket of their jeans. “Don’t move!” the officer boomed, placing a hand on the gun at his hip. Frisk began to full-on hyperventilate.

“I am just getting my phone, sir.” they breathed, trying to close their eyes and focus on something besides the officer’s weapon.

“Move slower,” he growled as if a thirteen-year-old was going to pull out a gun. Frisk moved as quickly as they dared, and entered the video app. They pressed record and retreated to sit against the wall next to the TV.

Dan motioned for the officer to follow him. Frisk walked next to him and kept the camera on the officer, zooming in on his name tag as they walked. “Officer Alder”. 

Frisk had hoped Dan would pull out some magic documents that would make the policeman go away, but he pulled out a notepad, sat down on his bed, and began to write. After a minute, he slowly turned the notepad to face the policeman.

**I do not have the papers you’ve asked for, because I found Frisk when they were homeless. They have no living family. I have been taking care of them for nearly five years.**

The officer frowned, unfazed. “Why would you keep them, instead of turning them over to Child Protective Services.”

**I had intended to at the start, but they said they wanted to stay. I lived alone, and I could afford to take care of them, so I decided I would try. I have attempted to gain legal custody of them, but the courts have thus far refused to see me about it.**

“I will need to take you in for further questioning. In the meantime, I am going to ask the kid if what you’ve said is true.”

Frisk balked as Alder motioned for Dan and Frisk to follow him while he radioed another officer. Within seconds, Officer Jackson had come through the door and stood watching Dan as Frisk was led by Officer Adler into their room. They walked slowly over to their mattress and curled up against the wall, knees hugged tight to their chest.

Officer Adler leaned against the door and crossed his arms over his chest. “What’s your name?”

“Frisk,” they said haltingly.

“Your legal name.” 

“I am Frisk Khatri-Morrow.” They bit back tears when they heard the familiar, warm tone of their father’s last name, and the sophisticated sound of their mother’s. 

“What are your parents' legal names?”

“Their names are Alice Morrow and Sai Khatri.” Frisk couldn’t stop their tears now. They looked at their kneecaps and picked at the denim of their overalls, desperate for a distraction.”

“What is your birth sex?”

“I’m intersex.” they glowered at the officer.

“What?”

“My body isn’t male or female.”

“But, what are you listed as on your birth certificate? I know for a fact that there are only two options.”

“I don’t know. Probably male, but as I said, I’m not male or female as far as my body goes.”

“Whatever kid.” the officer grimaced, taking his time to type up their responses on a small cell phone. “Why did you leave your home?”

They half-laughed, incredulous. They could barely make out the officer’s face through their tears. “My parents are dead.”

The officer began to type faster. “Do you know how they died?”

Frisk chocked, “They were shot on the night of June 8th, 2064.”

“By who?”

Frisk could barely whisper now. “I don’t know. They came, shot my dad, said some stuff to my mom, and then shot her too. I don’t know why. They seemed to know her.”

“Does your parent’s real names happen to be Sadhika Khatri and Jason Morrow?” 

“Those aren’t their real names!” they shouted. They had known their parents were both transgender, but they had changed their legal names years ago, and socially transitioned as teenagers. They were Alice Morrow and Sai Khatri years before Frisk was even born.

The officer glared at them and kept typing. Frisk tried to dry their eyes with their sleeve, but their face was soaked with tears as soon as they stopped.

“Your parents’ murders have been a cold case for five years. You were declared missing, then presumed dead years ago, now you turn out to be living with some random stranger, and we still don’t have any leads.” he paused, trying his hand at sincerity, “We just want to help you. Are you sure you don’t know anything else?”

Frisk glared at him. “I would tell you if I did.” That wasn’t entirely true, as they’d left out their parents using magic, but they’d be sent to a psych ward if they’d said,  _ “Well, my dad messed with my face and made me look different, and my mom threw me out a window with her mind. Also, the men who shot my parents may or may not be possessed.” _ .

Officer Adler huffed and continued as if they weren’t staring at him hard enough to bore holes in his back, “In any case, you can’t stay here anymore. Pack your bags, kid.”

Frisk was dumbstruck.  _ After everything, they’re gonna take me from Dan? _ “Wait, why? Dan has done nothing but help me for five years, and now you’re gonna take me from him?”

“He essentially kidnapped you!”

“I was eight!” Frisk screeched. “I just watched my parents die and I was living under a fucking dumpster, and Dan found me when he was only eighteen! What, do you think I should know to report myself to the police as ‘not actually missing’? That’s bullshit!”

“Dan could’ve, though. He could’ve taken steps to legally adopt you, but he didn’t. He could’ve reported your parent’s murder to the police, but he didn’t. I don’t know why, but the fact is, he had the time to make this work, but he didn’t, and know he’s going to be punished for it.”

“What, are you going to take him to jail then?”

“Depends on how he does in court.” Frisk’s throat tightened until they could barely breathe. There was nothing they could do. They were being taken into foster care while Dan was probably going to prison. 

The officer sighed, handing them a huge suitcase he’d taken from Dan’s room. “Just pack, kid. You can either leave here with your clothes, or with nothing but the shirt on your back, but you’re leaving here one way or the other.” Adler gave them one last glance, then shut the door.

Frisk rolled up their favorite t-shirts and jeans first, leaving most of their skirts behind, except their favorite pleated red one, and a dark denim skirt. They packed only a few pairs of briefs, and some of their more feminine panties, leaving their boxer shorts behind due to lack of space. Their keyboard miraculously fit into the suitcase, if they put it in diagonally. They crammed rolled up sweaters and long-sleeved shirts around the keyboard as padding, then folded up their blanket and laid it over everything else. There was no way for them to take their pillow along, so they gave it one last hug and laid it back on their bed. Then Frisk folded up the keyboard stand and the cord, along with their sheet music, and put it in the outer pocket of the case, along with a bundle of colorful hair elastics and a thick black headband. The stand stuck out the top by a few inches, but they didn’t mind. Finally, they put their phone and charger into the pocket of their overalls and threw on their thick, baby blue pajama sweatshirt. There were two horizontal pink stripes around the body and sleeves that reminded them of the yellow stripes on the highway. It still went almost all the way down to their knees, even after all these years.

Adler was waiting outside the door when they finished, rolling the massive suitcase behind them. He searched the case, then carried it outside, not waiting for Frisk to catch up. “I’m taking you to a children’s home nearby. Do you have everything you need?”

“Will I need shampoo and shit?”

“Probably.” They grumbled under their breath and went to the bathroom to grab their shampoo, conditioner, and hair pick from the shower. They showed it to Officer Adler, then shoved it all into the pocket of their overalls. 

Officer Adler clearly wanted to get this over with, but the other, Officer Jackson, allowed them to give Dan one last huge hug on their way out the door. Dan was crying silently as he let them go.  **I love you little sib,** he signed, watching them leave through his tears.

**I love you too.**

 

“What did you say to Dan on your way out?” inquired Officer Adler once they were ten minutes away from Dan’s apartment. He’d left Jackson behind to take Dan into custody.

Frisk sneered. “None of your business, asshole”. They supposed it was a bad idea to swear at a man with a gun, but they didn’t really care if they were shot at this point. “He was telling me his escape plan, obviously.” He took them seriously for a few seconds, and they would have laughed if there was anything funny about being stuck in the back of a police car with nothing but a suitcase and half of a will to live.

Officer Adler didn’t say anything for the rest of the drive.

The car stopped on the outskirts of Ebbot City, at a place that was painted a nauseatingly happy shade of mint green, with “River’s Cradle Children’s Home” painted on a wooden sign above a small red door. The word cradle had been hastily crossed out in spray paint and the word “STRANGLE” had been written in red above it.  _ Creative. _

Frisk took their own suitcase, dragging it up the stairs and into the building. A kind old woman lead her up another set of stairs to the second floor of the building. They were going to stay in a room at the very end of the hallway, which had a large portrait of a dick spray-painted onto the door. Frisk figured that the artist was the same person who’d vandalized the sign.

Frisk opened the door to find a bunk bed on the left wall, two desks on the right, and a small window high on the farthest wall. A girl with jet black hair pulled into two buns on the sides of her head sat on the top bunk, smoking what Frisk assumed was a joint. The old woman harumphed at her and snatched the joint, then scurried from the room. The girl waved to Frisk and stuck her tongue out between two lips that were stained black with dark lipstick. “Welcome to hell, roomie!” She said, in a husky voice, and laughed sharply. Frisk ignored her, shoving their suitcase under the bottom bunk, next to a duffel bag they assumed was hers. They laid down on the squeaky spring mattress and fell asleep instantly, not even stopping to empty their pocket.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, as you can already tell, I am shitty at coming up with chapter titles, so I'll probably be using song lyrics (or titles for Undertale songs :3 ) for the remainder of this fic, which is a thing I blatantly stole from PadawanNerd (his work is great, go check out his series I'll Make A Man Out of You: The Jotaro Kujo Story if you like JBBA). I will also be switching my writing style to the first person to follow Frisk more closely because I don't like my writing style so far and I always feel like the work I publish is shitty. Changing the POV is a placebo, but it helps me write a better, more stylized story. If you're a veteran writer and you have some tips for writing in the third person without being terrible at it, PLEASE leave them in a comment (I'm begging you).  
> Also, sorry if both of Frisk's parents being trans seems excessive, but there wasn't a good way for me to make Frisk their biological child with only one trans parent (idk why it was so important for me to make them Frisk's biological parents, but it was :P ). Besides, more trans representation can't hurt, cause mainstream media seems to think that they don't even exist anyway.


End file.
